Something's Comin...

Could be...
Who knows...
........
It's only just out of reach
Down the block, on a beach
Under a tree
I got a feeling there's a miracle due
......
Could it be?
Yes it could
Something's coming
Something good.....
If I can wait

But wait - no more wait.  Want it to be now.  Or at least nowish.  Nowish in the sense that I get to choose?

Poor Tony.  Do you think that song is about the love affair or his impending doom?  I choose Love Affair.  Cause after that, there's nothing else worth living for anyway right?  Once you've loved... you're golden.

But yeah - I want something to come...
Spring.
Energy.
Clarity.
Health.
Smarts.
Charity.
nbd

I know I gotta do something to get something.  But I hope that the gotta do comes because of the feeling like it.  So it's the feeling like it that I feel is the "could it be? yes it could!"

The stars are aligning.  Seven months of saying no, four children home safe and sound, family landmarks around the corner....

Could be... who knows....

April is 5 days away.

Outside Online

It's Lent this week.  I love Lent.  I'm not a Catholic, in fact I'm a Mormon.  But I love Lent and I look forward every year to getting off of Facebook for the 46 days of Lent.  It's not a flippant observance of this holiday - I believe wholeheartedly that when we give up things in our lives, it has the potential to bring us closer to God.  Mormons attempt that all the time - no alcohol, no coffee, no smoking, no playing on Sunday, no sex before marriage... we even fast once a month.  That's like Lent.  So I'm a grateful observer of the tradition.  I'm not on a path of disrespect or blasphemy.  Agreed?  Agreed.
This year as part of my preparation to leave Facebook for a bit (and honestly, every year I'm tempted to make it permanent) I realize that I'm looking for somewhere that feels like outside while I'm online. (Facebook doesn't, but it's a tempting disappointment every time) A really common time for me to log on is in between my 21 morning alarms.  4:45 for prep, 4:55, 5:00 for real, 5:05 and on until 6:30 when it's desperate.  The alarm at 6:30 means not only did I sleep in, but Corinne did as well, missed seminary, and now I'm in jeopardy of being later than the kids who are tardy to my first class.  I can usually avoid hearing all of the 21 alarms if I get on my phone and start reading the semi-interesting babble from my friends on Facebook.  Honestly, I like the babble.  It's amazing how long I can read it.  All the way to 6:30 actually - which is mind blowingly stupid - cause I might as well have been sleeping all that time. BUT here's the justification - I love to go outside first thing in the morning.  (Let's be clear - daylight means morning.  No daylight - still night)  And I think this is the phenomenon I'm trying to achieve without leaving my sheets and the side of my charming, snoring husband. If I can find something that will convince me that it's worth getting up... remember there are people out there... the sun will shine and the mountains will be beautiful and there is fruit to eat and dirt to dig about in - things to do!  And it's not all bad - LIVE WOMAN!  LIVE! 
This is the trick every morning isn't it?  To choose to live.  To shake off the dust from the night's slumber and push the blood through your veins and take deep breaths and live again. 
Maybe that's why we avoid bedtime - its like dying.  Giving up consciousness is a scary thing right?  And we don't control where our minds roam at night.  Sometimes going to scary places, sometimes embarrassing ones...  occasionally to a fantasy so intriguing we want to carry it right into our true breaths. 
What should I do at 4:55 to convince my dreaming mind, thick blood and slow breaths that it's time to live again?  Facebook doesn't really do the trick, it's a charlaton, but it's my addiction - and starting on Wed, I'll have nothing...  Nothing to convince me to live.  I need to find outside online. 

Remorse

90 days until Elder Wadley comes home.
I'm scared.
I'm thrilled.
I'm definitely counting.
I get the impression from some that counting makes me weak.
I'm tired of that impression.
I'm counting.
I don't care.
I do care.
I wish I didn't.
90 days I'm attempting sugarless. 
90 days I'm working on "wellness'.
I even have a ppt.
But on day ONE - today...
I got angry.
Annoyed.
Exasperated.
A head ache.
And then I made a mistake.
I spoke.
I shared the anger.
Fail.
Fail.
Fail.
Wellness?
Bah!
At least I have some where to go...
Wellness has got to be the state of mind that doesn't prevent bad, but permits it.
I'm not there yet.
Good night.
I'm sleepy.
Pills for the head.
Sleep for the anger.
Hopefully I don't talk in my sleep.
Writing for remorse.
xo

children

October 2011

David's been wearing a terrific pair of round sunglasses with his 1840's cap.  His moppy blonde hair peeking out from every rim and corner, and his precocious smile sneaking out underneath.  He's quite pleased with his new old sense of fashion.  He's a different child than my others, somehow terribly alive in being adored by the older three.

Corinne is babysitting and I'm sure so well.  She may be running a more perfect home than the dear mother who left her in charge.  That certainly happens when I leave her.  Jessica is outside swinging and playing her guitar with two adorable friends who I would invite to stay forever if their own mother's wouldn't miss them so.Douglas is on an adventure.  He's out with a new old friend to visit an old new friend. Rich is tracking all of their activity and will eventually wrangle them in for prayers and sleeping.  It won't be an easy feat.

I have absolutely nothing to offer but the ramblings of my own days and my own sorting.  I have no new way of learning or loving or living to give up to the world.  Its all been written, painted and sung, and by artists endlessly more talented than I.  But I'm new.  I haven't been here before, so the old ways feel new on me.  More clarity comes into focus as I see fewer days ahead than in the wake, and I'm most certainly afraid of what I may not write, paint or sing.  But the stillness comes as I learn what I'm meant to do and do more of it.  There's no end in sight.

Dare to Dream?

Dare to dream?

"I would rather have been a French peasant and worn wooden shoes. I would rather have lived in a hut with a vine growing over the door, and the grapes growing purple in the kisses of the autumn Summer sun. I would rather have been that poor peasant with my loving wife by my side, knitting as the day died out of the sky, with my children upon my knees and their arms about me...and so I would ten thousand times" -Robert G. Ingersol

Dreaming about being an actress, is more exciting then being one. Marilyn Monroe

Dreaming or awake, we perceive only events that have meaning to us. Jane Roberts

I cannot sleep for dreaming; I cannot dream but I wake and walk about the house as though I'd find you coming through some door. Arthur Miller

I find myself dreaming of doing normal things - like staying home and washing dishes. Shalom Harlow

One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today. Dale Carnegie

The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and in dreaming dreams, but in active charity and in willing service. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I don't have lofty dreams. Do I? Does that mean I'm afraid? Does it mean I don't have vision or I lack scope?

SOTW

I'm amazed at the things I learn while watching Savior Of The World. Here is a sampling:

It's interesting to think about always being on camera. I guess we really are. We really are always on camera. What we do, matters. Always. This is integrity.

As I watch friends on stage portray such important historical figures, its really interesting to think about their personal relationships with each other. I shouldn't belittle my relationships.

What if I always lived as if I was on the colonnade? Always looking at people as though their circumstances don't matter, but only the experiences they are having? What if I saw everyone with the same compassion and hope as I feel when I'm up there?

Am I teaching my children to learn to recognize the spirit? What experiences are they having up there?

The Shepherds were ready to tell and testify even before they were invited in to see the baby.

It's easy to love my 17 year old when he is on the stage playing a Shepherd.

I have had many thoughts that sadly didn't get written down. And I guess in some ways, I'm surprised - that I've had them. I always think that as I come to this production again and again that it can't possibly be that I could still learn from these lines. But as the gospel consistently does, I do learn. It seems it always has something different to teach depending on life's circumstances. As thy days may demand... I am blessed, even in moments of pride, by humbling events that bring me to these rehearsals on the edge of tears and as I hear the words and principles proclaimed, I find myself comforted and humbled by the very comfort. There are even moments of sorrow and forgiveness. The tears surface even now.

As I conduct I am remembering watching that conductor in Santa Cruz. Gorgeous church. What was that event? I was with people from school I think. She danced. This woman conducting this small chamber orchestra was totally inspiring to me. As I reflect on the opportunities I've had to conduct at various events over the last few months - including women's conference and this beautiful production, I am tempted to wonder if that moment is Santa Cruz wasn't revelation. Or at least preparation. I'm grateful for what music has brought to me.

"Perhaps this is what God wants." Oh, this phrase rings so true in so many situations in my life.

Smarts.

I think I log on to facebook when I'm craving some kind of interaction.  No wait, craving makes it sound desperate.  That's not the right word. Maybe it's just a preference - My preference is to have someone to talk to or look at or ask a question.  But I'm alone and so I log on thinking that someone on facebook will talk to me.  That's the misconception.  No one will talk to me there.  They talk at me or near me or through me or around me, but not to me.  And then I have to deal with whatever burdens have been placed on my news feed and instead of having my craving (preference) satisfied, I'm now worried about 8 different people, upset about some political conflict I don't understand and basing my self-worth on the fact that my first boyfriend's daughter is Han Solo, Arwen, the color purple and should live in a cottage in Nepal.  Not helpful.  I repeat, not helpful. 

I'm allergic to sugar.  It gives me hives and my tongue fills up my mouth, I can't breathe and for the next two weeks I see everything with a purple hue, I have a taste in my mouth like asparagus and my right eye twitches uncontrollably.
False.  Darn it. I'm not allergic, I'm addicted.  Why is it that I think I can stay up later, write longer, return more emails, balance my bank account faster, vacuum and love more perfectly if I've had  5 oreos and a glass of milk?

Want one more?  Cause good things come in threes? I would rather have my contacts cement to my crispy eyeballs than get up out of bed to take them out.  Why?  Why can't I move my body?  Why can't I be reasonable?  Why do I lay down with them in in the first place?  Seriously, after 15 years of this phenomenon I haven't learned that when the TV is on, I sit on the bed, lean on the bed, rest on the bed, recline on the bed, lay on the bed....  then sleep on the bed.  For the night.  So, instead of wearing my glasses for 15 minutes before I go to sleep, I wear them for 15 hours the next day while my eyes recover from their nocturnal cement tomb.  Dumb.

Self discipline.  Restraint. Willpower.  Composure. Moderation.  Temperance.  Smarts.